


Morty isn't ok

by meshtams



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Autistic Morty, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, autistic Rick, graphic depictions of self harm, not really relationship-y, really ooc oops sorry, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 06:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshtams/pseuds/meshtams
Summary: Morty self harms and Rick finds out





	Morty isn't ok

Morty was curled up in a ball on the itchy brown carpet of his bedroom floor, watching the clock tick. It was 11:57 on July 19th- exactly 3 minutes until his 17th birthday. His skin crawled, his nails picking at dried scabs along his too-thin arms in time with the clock; each tick was mirrored by the light scratching sound of his jagged nails catching at clotted blood.   
He saw the clock strike midnight and rolled over onto his back. "Happy fucking birthday to me." He muttered bitterly. Sighing, he reached under his bed for the metal box he knew was there. The sleeves of his pale blue undershirt were already rolled up, and he cast his cold brown eyes towards his door to make sure the lock was closed firmly as his pale fingers reached for the blade in the box. He'd pried the tiny piece of metal from a pencil sharpener he stole from his school the year before, and it was starting to rust. He knew he'd have to get a new one soon, but he couldn't bring himself to care just yet.   
Holding the small blade between his slender fingertips, he pressed it into the soft flesh of his arm and dragged. A neat red line opened up about half way up his forearm and tiny droplets of blood started to well up as he moved further down his arm, dragging the blade over and over and over until he hit the base of his hand and about 15 cuts were lined up, even and weeping. He gently wiped the blade on his dark jeans and sat it back in the box, pushing the box under his bed. He pulled down his sleeve to catch the blood and picked himself up off the ground, depositing himself into his bed. The covers smelled and he could feel crusty bloodstains on the dark bottom sheet; he knew he needed to wash his bedding soon, but it took all he had to just get to school, especially with Rick still dragging him out of classes and sleep to follow him around the universe, let alone anything else. He didn't even bother to pull the duvets over himself before he fell asleep. After all, what was the point?

*Knock Knock Knock*  
Morty flung his arm over his eyes and dejectedly spat "What?" at the door.  
"M-Morty! You gotta- You gotta get up Morty!"  
"Oh Jeez, Rick. Its too early for this bullshit." he mumbled into his bedspread.  
"Get up you little shit, before I p-portal myself in there and drag you up"   
"Fine, fine, fine."   
Morty finally opened his stinging eyes and practically rolled himself out of bed, pulling off the blood stained shirts he wore and winceing as the action pulled away the scabs which had stuck to his shirt. He threw the soiled shirt into his overflowing washing basket, and as he grabbed for his closet door he caught a glimpse of himself in the full legnth mirror by his desk. He was thin, too thin. He was 17 and couldn't have weighed more than 100lbs, which wasn't much even if he was only 5'4". His ribs poked out from fair skin marred with purple bruises, including one along his entire left side which mirrored the exact shape of the school lockers. After years of it, Morty was used to seeing the marks left by his bullies, especially now that the purple bruises were reflected under his dead eyes. He could see his entire gawky frame looking back at him, and he couldn't help but smile a little, miserably, as he was the mess that was his left arm. Scars and cuts ran up and down the inside and out of his forearm, layered on top of one another but never deep enough to do any real damage. The scars would never go away fully though, he knew, and he found a strange sense of comfort in it. Contrasting with his left side, his right side was almost entirely unmarred. A small graze on his cheek from being pushed down in the parking lot, but he could never hurt his own right side. It was hard enough holding the blade in his right hand.   
He grabbed another of his blue undershirts and threw it on quickly, aware he was taking far too long and not wanting Rick to see the mess he made of himself when he inevitably portaled himself into Morty's room. He had no more of his favorite yellow shirts clean, and he was left with a choice between either a blue t-shirt with a grease stain down the front, or his old ratty black hoodie. He grabbed the hoodie, it was far too big for him now, even though he bought it when he was 15, and shoved the t-shirt to the back of his closet.  
As he slid the hoodie over his head he heard the distinct sound of a portal opening above him, and then the thump of his grandfather's wirey form hitting the ground, gracefully gracelessly.   
"What's, URP, what's taking so long?" Rick tapped his fingers against the metal flask attatched to his belt.   
"N-nothing Rick, I'm ready. What do you want?"  
"Well... URP, since its your b-birthday, I tho- I thought I'd take you on a special BIRTHDAY ADVENTURE!" Rick yelled, grabbing Morty's left wrist and dragging him towards the still-open portal. Morty winced, and he hoped Rick would he too drunk to notice, or at least not care enough to realize, but luck, obviously, was not on his side.   
"M-Morty? What's wrong?" Rick's usually cold voice almost sounded.... concerned?  
"N-Nothing Rick, sounds good, lets go.."  
"No, Morty.... What...." Rick trailed off as he saw the mild pain on his grandson's face, and noticed his bony hand was still wrapped around his wrist.  
Rick took Morty's left hand and grabbed for his sleeve.  
"NO! Rick... Stop it." Morty spoke uselessly, feeling a tear slide down his gaunt cheek. Rick lifted both layers of sleeves and revealed the criss-cross of marks up and down Morty's arm.  
"M-Morty ...." Ricks voice sounded more gentle than Morty had ever heard it. He had expected Rick to make fun of him, and was shocked when the older man pressed him into his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm Sorry" Rick kept muttering into the brown curls of Morty's hair, and Morty could feel his grandpas tears on his scalp.  
"R-Rick? Why are you..."   
"I should have noticed. I should have known better. I'm so sorry Morty. I'm so sorry."  
Morty squirmed in Rick's embrace. He wasn't particularly comfortable with physical contact, though Rick was always more able to get away with it than anyone else. "I didn't want you to know."  
"I know, I know how it is, but I'm the smartest man in the universe, I should have fucking noticed, it's not even like I don't know the signs...." Rick detached himself from his grandson and shrugged off his ever-present lab coat, then pushed up the sleeves of his top. Thick, knotted scars wound around his arms. Morty gasped. "I should have noticed. Fuck. I should have noticed. I'm so sorry, Morty." Rick's voice was loud now, almost loud enough to wake Summer, who's room was beside Morty's.   
Feeling uncomfortable and unable to deal with his grandfather's emotional outburst, Morty just said "It's ok...." in a low voice. Neither of the pair were ever particularly good with emotions, so this was enough for them.   
"I- urp, I love you, Morty, even if I don't tell you enough. I know i- I've really fucked up being a grandpa to you, but i love you."   
"I love you too, Rick."  
"You know you can tell me anything? I'm hardly one to judge!" Rick let out a bitter laugh and looked down at his ruined arms and the half empty flask of vodka abandoned on Morty's dresser. "I wish I could be a better grandpa to you, Morty. But from now on, I'll try to be more honest with you, and please try to be more honest with me."   
"R-Really? Gee... thanks Rick." Morty was shaking, picking at the skin at the side of his thumbnail.  
"Of course, Morty." His grandpa looked more open and honest than Morty had ever seen him. Rick always looked guarded, ready to fight at a moments noticed, but now he looked sad and broken, but genuine. "Now, how about we go on that adventure?" Rick asked as he put his arm around Morty and pulled him into a side hug.   
"I- I'd like that Rick."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Morty's asd similar to my own and didn't really mention it in the fic. thanks for reading :D


End file.
